


An Empire for Two

by Calesvol



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Drama & Romance, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Human/Monster Romance, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-16 00:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13624350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calesvol/pseuds/Calesvol
Summary: Based onThe Shape of WaterAU conceived withsoulmarshal, when Noctis was a child had the invasion on Tenebrae seen him taken as a prisoner of war and test subject of the Niflheim Empire, living a miserable life until the day his life changes forever--with a meeting predestined by the divine. With the growing tensions of a Cold War between Lucis and Niflheim, amid it all does a most unexpected romance flourish between a caged prince and a being robbed of his freedom.





	An Empire for Two

(Warning(s): M, abuse mentions, gore)

* * *

 

They say that dying was like walking down a light tunnel, and that dreams were death’s sibling. That the world fell away from behind, and oblivion came rushing to meet it next. That it would be weightless, cloudy. Like wandering through a dreamscape submerged underwater. Scaly light filtered from above; air was needless, all was weightless and misty blue. Those were easier dreams. Nights where he could actually find himself asleep and not consumed in the perspiring vestiges of a nightmare.

 

When Noctis awoke, that heaviness returned again. Bleary blue eyes blinked away the thick coils of sleep, a nightstick clanging on the secondary barred door that entered his room. It was time for another round of experimentation, he remembered with dread. It was loud, incessant from a warden working for hours too long and wanting nothing more than to finally have his break. Noctis called that he was awake. It stopped.

 

The cloister cell was small. No larger than a Chocobo stable with spartan furnishings, a thin mattress with thin sheets and ragged, patchwork comforter were strewn aside as the young man arose for the day. A single square cut above his head let in light, but it wasn’t from the outside. Still barred, still a cage. On the grated iron floor did he turn the rusted handles to the rusted faucet before the cloudy mirror on the gristly, old porcelain sink and began washing his face, brushing his teeth; showers didn’t come until evening.

 

A small cabinet above the rickety toilet was where a few pairs of mottled slacks and shirts wait, pulling on the garments with stiff limbs still creaky from his poor, damply chilly night’s sleep. It was always difficult trying to stand still, his lame leg making him wobble, having to lean on a sheet of metal that encompassed his room or sit on the bed for support. Sometimes, he knocked some books off the few shelves above his bed.

 

It couldn’t be helped, he’d learned a long time ago.

 

After slipping into a pair worn loafers, he knocked on the door, soul still so, so exhausted.

 

Though, his face lightened when he saw who waited for him.

 

“Awake now, little prince?” Weskham couldn’t help but greet him warmly, touching Noctis’ shoulder and guiding him through before dropping the contact and letting him walk alongside.

 

“You say that like it’s morning. Isn’t it around 1 AM or something?” Noctis replied with half a smirk, even if the mirth wasn’t quite there. It never seemed to surpass the watery blue of his eyes.

 

Weskham chuckled at that. “No, I suppose not.”

 

This was the lightest hour of Noctis’ days. When he and Weskham would walk from the cell block and towards the enormous atrium that served like a nexus to the rest of the lab. It always seemed so grim and dark, but he supposed that’s how it would always be.

 

“...Did you dream about him? You know, of the guy back in Insomnia?”

 

Weskham seemed to grow distant, lips thinning as his stare became faraway. He nodded, but then abruptly changed the subject. “Noctis, wait here. It seems we’ve forgotten your cane,” the older man averted before striding back towards his room, leaving a bemused Noctis in his wake.

 

Leaning against the wall and watching as people in white lab coats milled busily by, an unremarkable wallflower until a tapping of his shoulder caught his attention. “Oh, uh, hey Aranea,” he greeted with a sheepish smile, not having seen the dragoon approach.

 

“You alright over there, kid? Kinda look like a fish outta water,” the woman said with a cocked hip, a vague look of concern in her gaze.

 

Noctis chuffed. “Yeah, fine. Just waiting for Weskham to get my cane. Unless you needed something, Commodore?” The title was playfully tacked on, his smirk spanning at the older woman’s eye roll and her poorly suppressed smile.

 

“Way to make a lady feel old, kiddo. What’s next? You gonna help me cross the street?” Aranea folded her arms beneath her bosom, quirking a brow. Though, her jocularity seemed to evaporate when, across the atrium, they both perked to sight of men in hazmat suits tromping loudly through that caused many people to skitter from their path. Noctis pushed off the wall, expression disbelieving when he saw a watery veneer of inky substances left in their wake. A security guard ordered for every one to stand back, informing them that this substance was hazardous. As the man spoke, the tar oxidized and corrosively ate through the tile floors, acrid smoke fumigating as a fire alarm sounded and a thin spray of water showered them from above, Aranea hissing as she guided Noctis away from the worst of it.

 

“Goodness, what happened over here?” Weskham puffed after they found a corridor away from the cascades, the atrium appearing as though a storm system had manifested inside. He passed Noctis’ cane on to him, and the young man took it gratefully.

 

“Beats me, Wesky. All I know is Izunia looked a little too slap happy the other day. Wonder if this doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Aranea chuffed, hissing at the moisture clinging to her hair and armor. “Dammit!”

 

“I don’t like the looks of it. Stuff like that doesn’t belong around people. Whatever they’re doing, it can’t be good,” Weskham said lowly, glancing towards the atrium again before taking his place at Noctis’ side, the air of expectancy palpable. “It was good seeing you again Miss Highwind.”

 

“Just call me Aranea, sheesh. Ugh, I’m gonna kill the guy who thought a hair-trigger sprinkler system was such a hot idea. Got a long shift today, too. Dammit,” she groused while wringing the individually bound tassels of her ponytail, flicking away the excess with her wrists.

 

“Yeah, be seeing you, Ara,” Noctis said lamely while Weskham ushered him on, appearing flummoxed. Just what was that stuff, and what was Chancellor Izunia planning? Whatever it was didn’t bode well. And as far as he knew, the noxious tar smelled deathly. Like something hell itself had spat out.

 

Regardless of how his day began, this was always the worst part. Zegnautus’ domestic pharmaceutical division didn’t rely on volunteers for testing. Even though they only tested pediatric drugs on him, the symptoms weren’t always pretty. Sometimes, it was the flu. Other times, it was pain so debilitating he couldn’t walk. As of that day, he was in the second week of trying out a new antidepressant, and he was a week in. Good thing he actually had depression, otherwise he wasn’t certain what the outcome would be.

 

“Five minutes late. Might I ask what the big hold-up was, Noctis?” Dr. Sania Yeagre questioned once they arrived at the lab, busily scanning a clipboard with several shiefs of paper flipped over before they furled back in unison once he was inside. “Thanks for bringing him, Weskham, but I sure hope your usual small talk wasn’t dragged out this time.”

 

“Oh, sorry about that, Dr. Yeagre. Something happened in the atrium.” Noctis rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze.

 

“Something happened?” Sania echoed with a shot-up gaze, a frown dipping on her coppery features. She set the clipboard down and skirted around the table she was at burdened by scientific paraphernalia.

 

“Yeah, word from the Commodore is that the Chancellor has some new pet project going on,” Weskham answered with folded arms, suspicion creasing his features. “Something leaked from the hazmat suits and ate through the concrete. Triggered the smoke alarms and we got pelted.”

 

Sania’s brows furrowed, looking Noctis over. “Well, suppose that explains why you two look like something the cat dragged in.” Though, her frown deepened and she tsked loudly. “Dangerous substances strolled right through the main lobby like that? What on earth is the matter with them? If someone starts sprouting another head, I’m not taking responsibility. Must be those cocky guys down in the Bioweapons division.” The scientist snorted, appraising Noctis and handing him a towel from one of the cleaning stations.

 

As Noctis mussed his hair with the towel, he overheard Weskham laugh at how comical the display was before beckoning Sania to him. “Keep the dosages real low, like we said, alright? I don’t want him going through what he did before you came around,” he murmured to the doctor, Noctis’ pace with the towel slowing as he eavesdropped, face falling.

 

Before Sania had been reassigned as the scientist overseeing his tests, he remembered the sadistic Verstael who often abused and gave him the wrong dosages of toxic, untested medicines unfit for human testing. There were still scars from the rough treatment, all because of a spinal injury he’d sustained after a Maralith attack had left him with a permanent, sometimes difficult disability in his left leg. Those sites still smarted at the memory of it, Noctis swallowing thickly.

 

“You two take care now. Noctis, I’ll be back for you around 5, sound good? We’ll get breakfast together,” Weskham bid in farewell before he shut the door of the lab behind him. Noctis nodded his head in acknowledgment, but not much else.

 

Sania seemed to notice, gently removing the towel and nudging Noctis’ shoulder with her elbow as she draped it on the rim of a tub. “Part of your testing involves a psych eval. I certainly hope you’re willing to be honest with me, Noctis, but if it’s any reassurance, doctor-patient confidentiality is something I’ll honor on my Socratic oath.” Noctis flashed her a small smile, likely understanding where she was coming from.

 

Though Sania wasn’t a shrink, Noctis considered her a friend. Once inside her office, though small, the overstuffed chairs that occupied her desk and a place before it lowered his perpetually high defenses. With a closed door and low lighting, it felt comfortable. Old wooden shelving along the walls sagged beneath the weight of files and research papers, cabinets and drawers stuffed with miscellaneous objects while warm lighting and the retro screensaver on her computer complemented the air of fuzzy comfort.

 

Sania poured them both glasses of wine, a sight Noctis was grateful for. “Don’t worry about drinking it. It won’t interfere with the antidepressants at all; that is, unless you plan on operating heavy machinery,” she simpered while swirling the contents of her glass.

 

“Huh, there goes my plans to take one of the mechs on a joyride,” Noctis grinned before taking a few sips, already feeling a buzz. He settled himself into the chair opposite Sania’s, setting his cane against her desk. He suddenly became quiet, too quiet. She watched him, the air open, nursing her glass of wine.

 

“Few months it’s been, right? Since you replaced Verstael,” Noctis began quietly, bringing his good knee to his chest and gazing sidelong, like a forlorn child without his parents. He hid in his sleeves, Sania just barely able to see his eyes. “Still remember how he used to just...use a fucking cattle prod on me. Said the volts were never that high, but—I can’t begin to say what it’s like. Like being struck by lightning, I guess. Everything just...stops. And you freeze. It’s like—some flash storm. Like what you hear about in Niflheim, with those ice storms that—they freeze animals just...doing things. It’s like that.” Noctis raked his fingers through his hair, visibly uncomfortable and shifting unsteadily. Sania noticed the faint tremor on his skin, lips pulled into a frown.

 

“PTSD isn’t easy to get over, especially after what you’ve been through,” Sania noted, leaning back in her chair. She laughed dryly, the younger glancing up at her. “Growing up, I still remember the exact day my parents died. Out of all the happy memories from my childhood in Lestallum, it had to be that which stuck with me the most. You don’t think a silly road trip out to the Crow’s Nest would bring daemons on you, but it did. And how only the saving grace of a hunter let you live to tell the tale. Everything. All those little nuances you remember better than mom and pop’s faces.” She stared into her wine glass, Noctis able to see the sadness behind deep chestnut eyes that seemed so confident otherwise.

 

“...Do you think it defines us? What happens to us?” he broke through the pregnant pause, Sania flicking her gaze to his. Noctis had tucked his other knee in, chin propped on the kneecaps and face half buried behind folded arms. He looked as though lonely had a face.

 

“Guess it depends what sort of answer you want. Dry and scientific, or the sort that makes you feel a little less alone.” She took a generous swig of her wine, emptying the glass before pouring another. Propriety be damned. She wasn’t a damn therapist, even if being a shoulder to lean on for a friend wasn’t out of her reach.

 

Noctis suddenly started from his position, shocked to unfirl both legs as if someone had jarred him awake. “What is it?” Sania intoned, vague worry creeping in. The younger man leaned over to stare intensely into the wine, as if he were a psychic scrying for some obscure truth. Sania mirrored the motion, watching him intently.

 

A dull thunder sounded distantly, the wine rippling in Noctis’ glass.

 

Shooting up from his chair, Noctis winced and panted raggedly as he seized his cane, the sudden motion shooting pain up his spine. “Something’s wrong. Really wrong, Sania,” Noctis grunted as he stood up, only to be upset by a more powerful tremor that saw him thrown into one of the many shelves, the doctor yelping as papers scattered from her desk.

 

“Noctis! No—you don’t know what’s going on! It could just be construction!” Sania protested as inertia slammed the door open from another tremor, Noctis braced for it better this time despite being slammed into the shelves. When it seemed as though he wasn’t listening, she rushed to his side and huffed, “Young man, you don’t have the necessary security clearance to reach the levels this is taking place. You want to see what it is so badly? Tough luck. You’re not going anywhere without me.” She folded her arms, challenging him ribaldly.

 

Noctis smiled hopefully, knowing what she meant. “Hey, it’s for science, right? Could be some big discovery for all we know.”

 

“Damn rascal...” He certainly knew how to get her hooked.

* * *

 

“The power to the elevator’s been shut off,” Noctis noticed as he saw some researchers and other personnel frantically smash the buttons from afar, hopelessly watching and cursing the lack of its manifestation. “Think we might have to take the stairs.”

 

“Security’s probably watching them like hawks,” Sania surmised before spotting an unused stairwell gratefully unnoticed by those frantically trying to wheedle their way through the mouse trap Zegnautus had become. Taking Noctis by the hand, his cane clacked in time with their jouncy trot towards it, the woman hauling the door open while rushing Noctis inside before anyone could stop them. Another tremor quaked the building, Noctis flung into the railing while the door shut with finality behind them.

 

Blinking rapidly as he collected himself, wind nearly knocked from his lungs, Sania loomed near him. “You sure you’re okay enough to continue?”

 

Swallowing down the pain in his ribs, he gasped, “Yeah. Let’s just get going before this place falls apart on us.”

 

The headlong flight down the stairwell brought them down at least six levels before the epicenter was finally located, they nearly jarred against a wall that Noctis’ quick reflexes saved them from. Bum leg or no, it had taught him to be more mindful of his own sense of balance than the average person.

 

An ear-splitting roar caused them both to wince sharply, Noctis clapping a hand over his ringing ear. “Shit—what was that?” he questioned after it receded.

 

“The sound of bureaucracy, what else?” Sania replied sarcastically, all before she turned to Noctis seriously. “You do know this could get dangerous, right? And I don’t mean just you or I gatecrashing a top-secret experiment-level of seriousness, either.”

 

Noctis’ head bowed, and the lull of silence that came was uncanny. “Yeah, I do, it’s just—something’s suffering down here, Dr. Yeagre. Maybe even someone.” There it was. That forlorn look again. Stronger than trepidation or even fear. “I know what it’s like to be caged, treated like a guinea pig. Abused because you’re seen as less than human. I can’t just sit tight while it happens.”

 

She knew better than to think his sadness was directed at her. When you were all that stood between a sadistic child with a magnifying glass, the one beneath learned to be grateful. Which he had been, even if she wasn’t enough to free him entirely. “...Alright. Second it gets rough, we’re out of here. You hear me?”

 

Noctis nodded tightly at her, understanding.

 

Edging the door open, the sound was even more cacophonous. Ceiling tiles had caved in on themselves, debris scattered amid exposed wiring that crackled and popped, showering sparks. The metallic limbs of the superstructure disgorged in cascades like corrugated snares, threatening to gore anything that was unfortunate enough to cross through. Water mains had ruptured and water gushed into growing pools while its spray created an eerie, neon mist. There was a single hydraulic ingress that bared entry on its own, Sania exchanging looks with Noctis.

 

“Noctis, I don’t think we should be here,” she bewared at him, they barely having emerged from the stairwell. The aftershocks from the last tremor vibrated the walls and floors, water droplets leaping from the vibrato. “Noctis!”

 

“Sania, it…stopped,” the man said, somewhat bewildered even as he exited past the threshold and picked his way through the rubble. Clutching the cardkey Sania had loaned him, nervously did he stop before the erratically flickering key pad and swiped it through. Maybe it had malfunctioned somewhat, it flashing to green and blaring an alarm as the heavy aperture clicked and clanged through its elaborate mechanisms before sliding open just incrementally.

 

Sidling his slender body through, Noctis gulped when he saw the rampant destruction within, Sania’s worry for his person practically gnawing down his neck.

 

Machines were overturned or completely obliterated, the ceiling difficult to tear as it was solid stone, but claws rent virulently and still smoldering left deep welts in their recent wake. Debris scattered, sections of wall collapsed and crumbling, sparks crackling from machinery torn from their cords. Metal crushed, it was a minefield of exposed wires, enormous boulders and stones, motes of dust and ashes, and the alarms still ranging their light.

 

Sania’s words were recalled and Noctis turned towards the exit, flushed with panic before his foot caught on a raised bundle of wires and his cane clattered away into a dark corner. “Shit—“ he cursed under his breath, groaning as his impact was on a particularly harsh bed on stones and debris. Turning on his back carefully, he attempted to sit up but hissed when pain laced his spine.

 

It was only then he noticed the enormous in-ground pool that dominated much of the cavern, the yawning, vaulted ceilings dripping with stalactites while dark, fathomless water rippled, having been recently disturbed. When he saw bubbles pop the surface, an icy panic gripped him as he attempted to scramble to his feet, to just escape the room.

 

Crawling on his belly, he froze when the water was parted in a mighty heave, feeling a cool spray diffuse from this new entrance. A low, muttering rumble shook the air atmospherically, mightily—dangerously. A breath hitched in his throat as Noctis knew it was futile to hide, feeling their gaze dig graves into his back.

 

A towering being—maybe 9, 12 feet easily—loomed over him. Like a half moon was he cleaved by an inky, amethyst exoskeleton pronounced by an enormous, dragging claw on his left and a swerving horn jutting from his skull. It loitered over the groin like a wet suit, climbing half his chest and throat and part of his face like a mask. Where there was none, his muscular physique was ashen and exposed. Platinum locks poured over his face like rain, indistinct onyx eyes boring through his soul.

 

Staring hard, it was only then that Noctis locked gazes and, breath stertorous, found himself too paralyzed to move. Of both fear and the raw awesomeness of this being.

 

Finding enough strength to prop himself up and fold his good leg beneath him, hunkering by a machine to haul himself upright, Noctis inched himself upwards while the creature kept his gaze curiously upon him. “Who are you?” Noctis breathed, marveling at the sight of him. As though encouraged, the being emerged from the gentle incline of the pool, heedless of the debris and lumbered towards the small man.

 

_Ravus._

 

Noctis startled when he heard the name clear as day in his mind, as if someone had whispered it. Returning his gaze to the being, Ravus extended the clawed appendage towards him, canting his head and crooning at Noctis. Lulled into a sense of security, the young man extended his own hand and touched only the tip of the longest claw. A fluttery disbelief arose alongside relief, though transient as it’d ultimately be.

 

Chaos erupted when MT’s flooded the vicinity, the emergency alarm sounding like an air raid siren resonating with a dizzying volume, disorienting Noctis who was helpless to watch as the MT’s shot grappling harpoons into the creature’s flank, through the fleshy areas as he caterwauled from the pain. Pistons flared as the being was dragged and wrestled to the ground, it happening so fast Noctis couldn’t muster even a voice to protest them.

 

“Noctis!” Sania shouted over the cacophony, dashing adroitly over obstacles and hauling Noctis to his feet, helping him limp as quickly as he could despite his refusals.

 

“Sania—we can’t! They’re hurting him!” he railed once they were safely outside, the chaos within emitting eerie strobe lights like it was some haunted house. “We’ve gotta get them to stop!”  


“Noct— Noctis! Look at me!” Sania shouted, taking Noctis by his shoulders to face her and shaking him, only now noticing how distraught the scientist was. “You have no idea what that thing even was! How the hell do you know it wasn’t just sizing you up? Snakes do that!”

 

Shocked by her outburst, it was only then he realized the truth of her words, stunned into a brief silence. He’d...made her worry. All because of a reckless curiosity. Even if she’d helped somewhat, neither had expected the wreckage indicative of something as mightily powerful. Noctis bowed his head, eyes shuddering shut. “...I’m sorry,” he said in his smallest voice, Sania’s expression softening.

 

“The elevators are working again. We’re going back, I’ll patch you up, then keep you for observation. Until we know what this thing is and what toxicology effects it has, I’ll have to quarantine you.” Noctis nodded numbly and he sighed, saying nothing. “Look, I’m sorry, I know you’ve got a good heart—but that fact about you almost got you killed. I’m just glad the Chancellor was on call. He brought reinforcements right away.”

 

Herded into the elevator, Sania mashed their floor button and waited until the doors closed with a ping before heaving a sigh of relief.

 

“Wait—you mean the Chancellor’s in charge of this? I mean, I know he had some…pet project going on, but this?” Noctis asked, voice still stilted from the injuries that transpired. The hum of the ascending elevator was calming, somewhat.

 

Sania only folded her arms, shaking her head. “Later, Noctis. We’ve got a rough night ahead of us and I’d rather not burn both of us out.”

 

Noctis bit his lip, but acceded with a nod. He still had no idea what was going on, but—Ravus. His heart tugged to know more. Why he was here, and for what. The tortured screams twisted his stomach in knots, feeling himself blanch at a memory so fresh.

 

Something in him knew there would be no sleeping tonight.


End file.
